Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song How yo Hood, artist - Mac Dre. Album song Rapper Gone Bad, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1998
Record label: Thizz Nation
Song language: English
How yo Hood |
I grew up in the Bay Area, around a gang of robbin and shootin |
Looked up to legends like Felix Mitchum, Huey P. Newton |
And Todd Shaw a/k/a Too $hort |
Blowin big hashis with dank that’ll make you choke |
Young Mac Dre, causin major damage |
Back in the days I tossed hoes in the back of my ham sandwich |
Grown, gone, on bomb seed that’s hemp |
Hound for potential prostitutes who need a pimp |
But now I’m bendin corners, fresh out Taradas |
Chokin on roper in the back of the Nada |
Drinkin that snake bite, Yukon jack |
And boy, I ain’t ride without my strap |
Cause them cutthroat bandits will split yo wig |
In the streets of Killafornia, ya dig? |
It’s goin down, dog, I’m in your town, dog |
Got to let your peeps know how I clown, dog |
In the end get it, comin with that blackhand sound |
You thinkin I can’t clown? |
Let me put my mack hand down |
How yo hood look? |
It’s full of gangsters, fool |
How yo hood look? |
It’s full of gangsters, son |
You can catch me on the Eastside, doin my thing |
Or you can me in New York, boy, it’s all the same |
I’m from the Eastside, where the thugs, they shed blood for nothin |
After the club you get it in your mug if you frontin |
We gangbang, it’s just that our slang’s a little different |
Aim a little different, spit game a little different |
Got in with the Mexicans, pricin them things a little different |
Same kinda crooks, but we cook up bricks a little different |
Them old school Chevrolets, our Six Range a little different |
Y’all gats and guns the same, but we blow brains a little different |
Them drive-by's, we walk-by's, some die a little different |
Lie a little different, testify a little different |
Y’all trees ain’t got seeds, y’all beez a little different |
The d’s is different, my pee’s a little different |
Y’all sell bricks, we break it down, get cheese a little different |
Y’all hate narcs, we hate cops, we eat a little different |
Y’all got strips, we got spots, our blocks a little different |
It get hot a little different, fools get knocked a little different |
When the feds came, yo Dre, they took the whole block to prison |
My man pops was snitchin, his face chopped in Clinton |
If you got change and the gear hot, then switch spots, get missin |
Yo hood ain’t no different, my hood ain’t no different |
In my neighborhood everybody thuggin |
Hoodrats steady gettin dug in |
Fools buggin, mean-muggin |
Later on you seem em noggin |
Dre, I play my hood all day |
Seen a fool get killed in broad day |
Thugs get money from the hallway |
2 for 5, the tall way |
Ghetto slang, ghetto game |
We all just doin that ghetto thang |
Run around totin them metal thangs |
Really, homeboy, it’s all the same |
Yo hood is like my hood, son |
Anywhere you go thugs pullin guns |
Gangbangers, ghetto birds |
Yo hood is like my hood, ya heard? |
Me and Killa finna leet you know |
How to put a lick down and get some dough |
From yo hood to Mexico |
Cause it’s all about that paper, though |
Put me up with Vallejo hoe |
That puff on hay, stay on the low |
Dre got work, 800 to 0 |
Eastside thugs make money, you know? |
I don’t care where we at |
Just as long as we keep smokin fat |
Get a fifth of Hen and hopin that |
Everybody wanna stay chokin, black |
I told you, Dre, our hood ain’t changed |
Thuggin em well, slingin em things |
Fools rock Rolies and diamond rings |
Respect the game, our hood’s the same |